


the man behind the mask

by peterstank



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, In between moments, Light Angst, Mad Bants, PTSD, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Wholesome, iron dad and spidey son, is this fluffy, sarcastic and snarky peter, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 13:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterstank/pseuds/peterstank
Summary: His dreams are flames, screams, a metal arm closing around his mother’s neck and breaking every bone, snapping, choking, stealing all that life away she never got to live.He can’t sleep. So he calls the kid.





	the man behind the mask

For the third time that hour, Tony rips his arm away from the materials on his workbench and flexes his hand, trying to get the blood flowing again. “God, this is unbearable,” he mutters. “Nothing says old man like walking around with braces on your wrists and having claws for hands.”

“You could always stop,” FRIDAY suggests, voice a pleasant pulse over the blare of AC/DC.

“Can’t stop won’t stop,” Tony mutters, and returns to the busted repulsor ray he’s fixing... and improving. Sort of. If all goes well it’ll function better than ever, but the downside is the high levels of vibranium, which could result in a distinct lack of arm if he fucks it up. But the copper will balance it out. His math is always right.

“Hey FRI, how’s that rendering coming along?”

“Good. Only thirty minutes left.”

“Thirty minutes,” he repeats. “Awesome, awesome... Ah, _fuck_.”

“Problem?”

“Burn,” Tony reports, shaking his hand this time and glaring at the soldering iron on the bench. A hidden panel slides on the chrome countertop, revealing just the right first aid device. FRIDAY douses his hand in liquid petroleum. “Nice. Told you it was a good idea to put that there.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” FRIDAY argues breezily.

“Yeah, you did.”

“No I didn’t. I can search the records of our conversations to prove it, if you like.”

“I don’t like,” Tony says. “You’re just jealous I have all the good ideas.”

“Your ideas are alright.”

“ _You’re_ an idea,” Tony reminds her, and grins triumphantly when the repulsor ray lights up with only a little flickering. “God, it’s like watching a sunrise.”

“I can project images of sunrises,” FRIDAY says. “I bet you miss it, seeing as you never leave your lab.”

Tony scoffs. “That was low. Besides, what would you do without me? I’m your best friend.”

“You’re not,” FRIDAY tells him, and that actually makes him look up. “Bruce and I have had many pleasant conversations. He doesn’t make fun of me like you do. Besides, I’m wired through the whole compound. Even if you left the lab, we’d still be able to communicate.”

“Well that is just—that’s just—you know what? You’re fired. And while you’re at it, fire Bruce too.”

“Bruce isn’t employed by you.”

“Bruce is—he’s a chemist! What do you talk about with him, anyway? Does he sing you atomic numbers and tell you riveting stories about kentones and carboxylic acid? Aw, FRI, do you know the periodic table by heart now?”

“You need to brush up on your chemistry.”

“I have a PhD in chemistry, and there’s no chemistry better than ours, ammirite?” 

She hums. “I suppose so.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Tell it to Bruce.”

“Calling Bruce—”

“No! Cancel!” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” FRIDAY says innocently. “I would never do anything to compromise our chemistry, Tony.”

He snorts and slips away from the bench, rolling his chair over to the desktop where a holographic model of the latest nanotech suit he’s been working on is projected. Tony fiddles with it for a moment and only stops when he realises the music has too, and there’s definitely someone standing behind him.

He waits for her to clear her throat. Tony glances over his shoulder and there’s Pepper, standing in a too-big band tee shirt that definitely belongs to him, but it looks better on her.

“That’s my shirt.”

“It’s laundry day,” Pepper says. “It was on the floor, I took it, I’m not sorry.”

“You should be. Looks better on me.”

Pepper shoots him a deadpan, totally annoyed, on the verge of murder, stare. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Tony cocks his head. “Hey FRI, what’s the time?”

“It’s 3:45 AM.”

“3:45,” Tony informs Pepper.

She rolls her eyes and steps toward him, arms folded over her chest. Tony continues to make modifications on the model, adjusting circuitry settings here, changing specs there.

“What’s that?”

“It’s for the kid,” Tony says idly.

Pepper stares. “I thought you just made him a new suit,” she says. “And he turned it down. I’m definitely right about that. I totally remember having to improv in front of a hundred reporters, Tony—” 

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore the fact that you just referred to our engagement announcement as _improv_. And this is for, y’know, after he gets Spidey Suit Mark II,” Tony says. “Which he will. Maybe not now, but yeah. This is Mark III. Thoughts?”

She squints. “I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“It’s essentially the same rendering as Mark I, only I’ve tweaked... yeah, the whole thing.” He nods. “Kid’s gonna flip.”

Pepper isn’t looking at the suit anymore. Her eyes are only on him. “Hey Tony? Can I ask you a question?”

He tries to ignore how soft her voice has gotten, not taking his eyes off of the projection, resisting the urge to throw out a sarcastic _you just did_. “Shoot.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

He thinks about it. A two hour flight from New York to Washington, five hours roving over amendments in the Accords, a two hour flight back, over eighteen hours in the lab; a two day stretch, no naps, hasn’t slept at all since... “72 hours.” 

Pepper groans. “God, Tony!”

“What?! _What?_ I’m busy, I have things—there’s very little time to work sleep in there. Who needs it, anyway?”

“You do!” Pepper glares. “God, have you looked at yourself, lately?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m no less ruggedly handsome.”

Pepper shakes her head. “Drop the handsome, try just rugged.” Tony sighs, turning away from the table and leaning against it instead. He massages his temples and tries, very hard, to make himself look at her.

But he can’t. Maybe she gets that, maybe she doesn’t, but she takes his hand anyway. “You need to sleep,” she whispers. “Come to bed. Please, Tony?”

Tony meets her eyes at last. They’re blue, they’re comforting, in a super cheesy way they’ll always be home for him. “Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hand in his. “Yeah, I will. Just give me like an hour to finish up down here—”

“ _Tony_ —”

“An hour, please. That’s all I ask. Then I’ll be right up, I promise.”

Pepper studies him. She seems to find it genuine enough and nods, but he can tell she’s verging on putting her foot down. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s a warm and soft and Tony closes his eyes, leaning into her touch, swearing he could fall asleep right there.

Then she’s gone.

Tony sags against the table, using it as support while his leg hooks around the base of the chair and he jerks it toward him, just in time to collapse against it.

All of it hits him at once: the sleep deprivation, the hunger, the dehydration. It’s gotta stop, it _really_ does... 

But he can’t sleep. He can’t sleep without thinking of flames, of screams, of a metal arm closing around his mother’s neck and breaking every bone, snapping, choking, stealing all that life away she never got to live. 

“So you heard all of that?” 

FRIDAY comes back to life. “Of course. And for the record, I agree with Pepper.”

“That’s not allowed,” Tony chides.

“There’s no function that disables me from—”

He scoffs. “Oh, just... you’re a pain in my ass, you know that? Sometimes, I swear, you’re worse than DUM-E.” 

“Unforgivable,” FRIDAY says, and blurbs off into nonexistence. DUM-E makes an offended whirring sound from a distant corner in the lab. Tony huffs and reaches for his phone. 

There are a million missed messages and calls, of course. He perishes the thought of owning a device that doesn’t possess top of the line scam filtration, because without it, he’d probably be staring at a smoking cracked piece of glass.

Tony flips through them. There are two from Bruce, six from Pepper that must be from hours ago, and... eighteen from Happy.

Tony frowns and opens the chat, and then snorts when he finds screenshots of another conversation. They’re all from the kid.

_Stopped a thug on the streets today. He had a gun. It’s cool, no one got shot._

_Helped an old guy find where he parked his car. He was super nice and gave me a quarter. Is that like, a lot of money to old people? Do they not get that currency fluctuates? Like, they spend their mornings reading the paper in the donut shops, don’t they check the economics section? I’m sure you’d know, being old yourself._

_That was a joke I swear._

Tony laughs out loud. It feels like the first time he’s done it in days. A little lighter, he texts Happy: _gimme the kid’s number._

It should be at the top of the pics, but Peter’s filed under ‘Jar Jar Binks’ in Happy’s phone, so he waits for a reply.

Even if it’s almost four AM, Happy doesn’t disappoint. _What do you want it for, anyway?_

 _I’m taking a weight off your shoulders here Hap,_ Tony replies. _Consider yourself no longer the messenger._

_You sure? He’s a lot to handle._

_Believe me, I’m sure,_ Tony replies. Happy doesn’t say anything else, which Tony takes for an answer in itself. He composes a quick mindless something to the kid: _can spiderman stick to non-stick pans? I think we need to experiment. -Tony_

He doesn’t expect a reply and is about to toss his phone when it lights up.

_I’ve already tried that. Dropped a frying pan in the middle of my kitchen and almost cracked the tile._

Tony is dialling before he knows it. The kid picks up almost immediately. “Mr. Stark?!”

“Hi, yeah, it’s me. What the hell are you doing up?”

“Uh, Chemistry homework,” Parker says, and Tony rolls his eyes, shooting out of his chair. The nerve. “I’m cramming for a quiz.” 

“I’m not gonna lie, Pete, that’s really lame.”

“Since when is being responsible lame?”

“Uh, since always?”

Peter huffs. “Not to adults.”

“You’re speaking to a man who hasn’t slept in 72 hours.”

“You’re kidding.” 

“I wish.”

There’s a sound of a slight clatter, like maybe he’s thrown his pen in frustration. “I’m gonna hang up before you actually die.” 

“Oh, come on. Have a little fun, entertain an old man.”

“I hope no one’s tapping this call,” Peter says 

“Don’t make it weird, kid.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that did that, Mr. Stark.”

Tony finds himself grinning like an idiot, swivelling around in his chair, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “Need some help, then?”

“With what? My chemistry?”

“Yeah, and don’t get all arrogant with me, Mr. ‘I’m the top of my class at Midtown Tech’—”

“No, actually... do you know anything about Harmonic Motion?”

Tony snorts. “Do I know anything about—you are aware of who you’re speaking to, right?”

Peter’s laugh is sort of nervous, or embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re right, sorry. Stupid question.”

“No questions are stupid, curiosity is ingrained, it’s human nature to fail—” 

“Are you reading the front of a hallmark card?”

Tony laughs. “Yeah okay. Whatever. So, chemistry quiz. What are we studying?” 

“Uh, Hooke’s Law.”

“Ah, the displacement of deformation of an object is directly proportional to the deformation distance,” Tony recites. There’s a hologram of a basketball in his hand and a hoop about ten feet away, and he tosses it from hand to hand before taking a shot. He doesn’t miss. 

“Yeah, exactly,” agrees Peter. “So I’ve been doing practise problems, and—”

“Lay it on me, kid.”

There’s a small pause. “Mr. Stark,” Peter blurts suddenly, “are you... okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course,” he says, without even thinking about it. His heart speeds up with the lie, but he doesn’t think the kid notices the way his voice tightens. “Why do you ask?”

“I mean, I just... you said you weren’t sleeping and I thought—it’s just that I know it can be hard after bad things happen and-and with New York and all—”

Tony holds a hand up. “Kid, I’m gonna stop you right there. My problems are my responsibility, and I will handle them _on my own._ I already have plenty of annoying robots telling me the same things, okay? I’m good. I’m _fine_.” 

(he tells himself it’s true, lets himself believe it even if only for a minute; he’s good, everything is gonna be okay, it’ll all work out)

Parker is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. Right. Okay, Mr. Stark.”

“What were we talking about again?” 

“Chemistry, but I really think I’ve got this. I mean, it’s an applicable formula and I’ve already been studying for two hours and you... you should really sleep.”

Tony sighs. The kid is worse than Pepper and FRIDAY combined. “You’re no fun, Parker.” 

“Someone has to be the adult,” Parker retorts easily.

“Yeah, _me_.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid—”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the—”

“I swear to god, if you finish that—”

“—spiders bite.”

“Am I six?”

“Double-o-Seven,” he says, and hangs up. On Tony. The kid who sends onslaught after onslaught of messages to Happy _hangs up first_. He’s so deep in shock it takes him two whole minutes to get the joke, and with a last laugh he pulls the phone away. 

FRIDAY hums. “Should I prepare the pull out?” 

“No, but do me a favour and keep an eye on the kid for me through Peter’s AI, okay?” 

“Karen already sends me weekly reports of Peter’s biometrics.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been way too lax and—I’m sorry, he named her Karen?” 

“Yes,” FRIDAY says innocently. “I think it’s a nice name.”

Tony shakes his head and stands. Every bone in his body aches. “Just keep a close eye on him.”

“Do you feel you’ve neglected in your duties as Peter’s mentor?”

“Who says I’m his...?” Tony stops and gives up halfway through. “Yeah. Whatever. Just keep me posted please, dear.”

“Of course.” 

He leaves it all down there, FRIDAY and the mechanics and Iron Man. Tony wanders through the cold halls of the compound and finds his room with Pepper, and for the first time in three weeks he doesn’t dream as he sleeps.

He just feels light.

**Author's Note:**

> This was sort of just me writing out my feelings (because I have a lot). I always figured there were more Tony & Peter interactions between Homecoming and Infinity War. I have ideas for more if you guys are interested!! Lmk!!! <3


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